


The Scent of Sawdust

by AngelDust734



Category: Kiwi - Harry Styles (Song), Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band), Parks and Recreation, Sweet Creature - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Harry, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelDust734/pseuds/AngelDust734
Summary: How could a delay in Harry's world tour change the course of his life (and love)? And what does it have to do with a certain bearded, government-hating woodworker?





	The Scent of Sawdust

The overwhelming roar of the crowd was brought to the foreground as Harry removed his headphones leaving the stage and incredible volume behind him. It was all he could do to not sob with relief. This was the 73rd stop on his world tour, it had been more than he could have ever hoped for, but the schedule was demanding. Now though he had two days to rest and prepare for Chicago. Walking towards his tour manager he overheard the conversation he was having with the bus driver, “what do we tell him, have the police been called?”. 

“Tell me what?”, Harry asked as he drew closer. The bus driver, Terry looked questioningly at Jeff Azoff who looked at Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again preparing to speak. Harry was alarmed by this deviation from the norm. Jeff had been an incredibly supportive manager and close friend to Harry for several years. However, Jeff was never slow to say what was on his mind. For there to be something that Jeff thought needed a second consideration spoke magnitudes to Harry. 

“The tour bus was vandalized by a group of men, given the slurs sprayed on the bus, it was clearly a hate-crime targeting your support of the LGBT community.”

“Was anyone injured”, Harry asked in concern as his stomached filled with a combination of fear and disgust.

“Fortunately not”, interjected Jeff. “The men were quickly spotted, and the security on hand were able to scare them off. The police have been called, and will hopefully be able to handle the situation.”

“We do have two problems though”, Terry said taking over for Jeff. 

“The bus’ engine was damaged and I’m guessing it will take most of the night to fix it IF we can find somewhere to take it so late. So we are currently finding you a hotel which brings us to our next problem.”, Terry paused for a minute to look over Harry’s exhausted form.

“Go on”, Harry whispered quietly, nearly unintelligible over the continued noise of the departing crowd and that being made by the concert staff as they went about their jobs. 

“The attack is already trending all over social media, and there’s already a small crowd of reporters waiting to molest you just outside of the security barricades. We are currently trying to figure out the best way to get you out of here and into a secure hotel without the entire fucking city losing its mind in search of you”.

“What’s the plan then”, Harry asked?

Jeff cleared his throat, drawing Harry’s and Terry’s attention to him. “We have arranged for half a dozen hotel rooms on the 13th floor of a local Marriot to be purchased to provide you with some form of privacy, but on such short notice, it wasn’t possible to create a more isolated environment. We will have to try our best to keep your location from being made public, but given the situation, it is no guarantee.” Jeff explained. “We will be taking you out through the service entrance in the hope of avoiding the paparazzi. Please go get ready to leave. 

A short while later, having changed out of his Velvet Elvis attire into a less conspicuous pair of black, tight Jeans with a dark grey 1D t-shirt, Harry found himself herded towards the back of the backstage by Jeff and a couple of muscled up security guards. Harry once again looked over at the large, bald man that had his hand on Harry’s shoulder (Dembe if Harry recalled correctly (and Harry would never forget the name of a man who looked as Dembe did)). Tall, taller than Harry, not quite 2 meters but damned close. He possessed an intoxicating musk mixed with axe body spray. Through his thin t-shirt, he could feel the rough callouses on the man’s palms. Clearly no stranger to hard work, Harry had to resist the urge to think about how the man’s thick fingers would feel elsewhere. 

Harry gave himself a mental shake. They were in a crisis and this man was hired to keep Harry safe. It seemed inappropriate to be fantasizing at such a time. Besides given the tightness of his Jeans was, Harry had no interest in showing his group exactly how much he appreciated the strong hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry gave himself another mental shake and kept pace with Jeff and the security guards. He always did have a thing for older men. 

It was after midnight before Harry found himself in the hotel room. It was luxurious Harry supposed. Modern lighting illuminated a sizeable space. An obnoxiously large television took up half of one wall. A black, velvet wing chair sat in the corner adjacent to the television. Just to the left of the chair, the entire far wall was replaced entirely with a bay window opening out to a spectacular view of downtown Indianapolis. The luminous view held little interest to Harry as he quickly stripped and heading for the shower. The sinful heat flowed through his locks, spreading out across his sore back and spreading across him like a comforting hug, His body, wracked with tension and exhaustion from the long performance and stressful aftermath, nearly melted under the blissful water. As he leaned into the side of the shower, head bent low as if in prayer, his mind unbidden by his consciousness replaced the blissful water with something even more desirable. Strong, calloused hands began rubbing his shoulders, warm themselves; safe and inviting. Harry felt himself begin to harden as Dembe’s hands began to lower, working the tension out of his shoulder blades, tracing his calloused fingers along his spine before resting his fingers on his hips. Harry couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips at the thought of the man pulling Harry closer to him, his mind fantasizing about the sensation of Dembe kneading the soft, rosy flesh of Harry’s rear. Without conscious consideration, Harry detached the shower head and brought it behind his back. Twisting the head clockwise, the stream of water narrowed until the single jet of water was almost painfully strong. Harry’s mind was still wrought with the visions of Dembe’s opal filled mouth covering his shoulder with quick, stinging bites, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps along his spine. As Harry spread himself he thought of Dembe kneeling behind him, his strong fingers gripping either cheek, exposing Harry’s sex to him. As the powerful jet of water pushed up against Harry’s rosebud, Harry gasped, his knees buckling in pleasure, leaning more heavily against the side of the shower, Harry released his ass, but before his rosebud could more than blink in the sudden darkness that hid it from the world, Harry gently pushed a ruby red nail and index finger slowly into his hole. Images of Dembe’s large, thick finger pushing into Harry’s hole, deviously slow, knuckle after knuckle, filled Harry’s mind and his hardness and breath throbbed in tandem. As Harry pushed his finger to the left, forcing his soft, core walls apart the powerful stream of water pushed further into Harry than it had previously. That was all it took. Harry’s finger, stretching his walls as the water tickled his g-spot was enough to send Harry over the edge. With a barely muffled cry of Dembe, Harry came onto the wall in front of him.

Having cleaned up the shower, and resumed his nightly ritual, Harry found himself wrapped in a soft, white comforter. Naked except for a pair of loose fitting boxers that Harry had stolen off of a one night stand in Singapore, he closed his eyes calling upon the darkness to carry him into his dreamscape. Yet slumber was stubbornly fought off by his treacherous mind. Fantasies fueled by the residual feelings of Dembe’s fingers gripping Harry’s shoulder and the intense fantasy/orgasm had woken up a hunger that Harry’s own actions could not handle. Harry wanted to be fucked, Harry wanted a large man to take him, Harry wanted strong hands on his waist, he wanted a thick cock inside him. Harry wanted the intoxicatingly comforting sensations of being competed filled by another. Harry wanted to taste himself on a cock as he swallowed a salty stream of cum that Harry himself had taken from another. 

Harry shook himself out of a fantasy that would have inevitably required another trip to the bathroom. Less than fifteen minutes later Harry decided that trying to sleep was a lost cause, especially when there were far more interesting activities on his mind. Walking out of his room, he saw Dembe sitting comfortably in a wing chair identical to the one in his room. He was leaning over a kindle reading what Harry assumed was some kind of historical fiction. Having traveled with Dembe for nearly a year, Harry knew that he was a history buff and that historical fiction was his preferred genre of literature. Even before the door had fully opened, Dembe was sitting up straight, his crystal blue eyes instantly found Harry’s own, and the muscles that made up Dembe’s deliciously powerful frame relaxed slightly.

“Can’t sleep”, Dembe asked, looking up at Harry from his position. His kind blue eyes staring into Harry’s own with obvious worry. Harry felt the need to look away, aroused as much as embarrassed at the emotions being expressed in the larger man’s eyes. From where Harry was standing he was able to look down Dembe’s plain, black t-shirt. The profound curves of Dembe’s cleavage stared back at Harry, taunting him with perfectly smooth skin that flowed down until it disappeared under Dembe’s shirt just before Harry could take in what he could only assume was a perfectly sculpted nipple. 

He had to stop himself from biting his lip at the idea of tasting Dembe’s skin. While Axe wasn’t Harry’s preferred smell, preferring a pinewood musk that he associated with woodworkers. Yet, for Dembe, the aroma fit perfectly. 

“No, not a damn bit”, Harry said with a sheepish grin. “I think I want to get out of here. With all that happened after the concert, my mind doesn’t want to shut off.”

Dembe stood up without hesitation, “Where are we going?”

Harry looked at Dembe, he was a good man. While he didn’t actually know his preferences, he never gave a single indication of attraction to anyone that had come across, he knew that Dembe wasn’t the kind to judge Harry’s actions or desires. With those thoughts in mind, he decided he would be honest with the large man, and hope that he would be willing to come along without the need to invite another watcher “or god forbid his manager”, Harry thought miserably. Jeff was well aware and supportive of Harry’s interest in sexual partner’s regardless of their identity, but he would never want Harry to go out after a long concert, certainly not with all the media attention that the aftermath of the concert had caused. 

“I want to go out, and look for some company tonight”, Harry said hiding his nerves behind a casual tone, looking directly into Dembe’s eyes trying not to think about how beautiful they would look, watching Harry from above as he serviced Dembe. 

Dembe appraised Harry for less than five seconds before he nodded and stood. “Let me grab my jacket.”

**Author's Note:**

> If it wasn't obvious given how this chapter ended, this will not a one-shot. Updates will be slow, but not too slow. This is my first attempt at RPF or smut so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Future chapters will be longer, I just wanted to get this idea started. Thank you for reading.


End file.
